


El Ethara

by d20sapphire



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20sapphire/pseuds/d20sapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pain of her lost clan she experienced while first Inquisitor gives Salmae a strategy on how to proceed and redeem Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	El Ethara

Salmae entered the throne room in a haze.  She didn’t see the people.  She barely felt the floor beneath her.  She look down past the Inquisition throne room to the door that lead to her room.  Lightly, she walked holding her sides, paying no attention to those around her. 

Josephine had followed her from the War Room, and stopped at the end of the hallway.  She reached out but then pulled back.  What could she even say?  Instead she watched on as Salmae passed like a ghost to her door.  Cullen came up behind her, and also stood to watch.  Both of them were used to being helpful, and felt helpless at this moment. Josephine turned back, not surprised to see the Commander behind her, and shook her head.

Cullen grimaced.  “I appreciate you being the one to deliver the news.”

Josephine looked back to the door to the Inquisitor’s quarters.  “Certainly.  Although I took no joy in it, I must admit it is best to have a delicate tongue delivering such news.”

Varric walked to them, seemingly in a hurry.  “Why did the Inquisitor look like that?”

Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but Josephine put her finger up and replied.  “It’s not our news to tell.  Just… give the Inquisitor some time, please.”

Skeptical, Varric let out an unconvinced “Alright” before turning around to see that Cole was no longer where he left him. 

 

_ Hmpf. Demonizing. _

Solas knew the irony of his opinion.  He was reading a newer text that had been written by a mage from Kinloch Hold about his experiences studying the Fade, but Solas could tell that this individual had approached the whole idea with a hope to close of much of the connection.  How this author could still be considered a mage was beyond his comprehension.  

Instantly Cole appeared sitting on the table, almost knocking off a stack of books and tomes that had been piled there for the past week.  It no longer phased the apostate, and he in fact found humor when others would be startled, especially when Cole had been unnoticed for minutes before.

Cole looked to him and stated, “You can help her.”

Solas raised an eyebrow.  “Who needs help?”

“Her.  The Inquisitor.”

Solas sat up straight.  “What for?”

“I tried.  I can’t.  There’s news?  Why read?  No, no, no, can’t be true, can’t be right.  Can’t show pain, hurt swelling up.  All of them?  No sign of where?  They must be somewhere.  They always were there.  Can’t be.  Can’t show pain.  Thank you.  That’s all.  All of them?  No, no, no--”

“All of whom Cole?”

Cole stopped and thought.  “Hers.  Her people.”

Solas quickly slammed the book closed and got up, ready to walk over and then stopped.  He didn’t know if Salmae wanted to make a show of the two of them.  “Where is she?”

“Her new room.  Alone.  Empty.”

“Can you have those in the throne room forget I go to her?”

“They won’t see you.”  With that Cole blinked out of sight.  

“Ma serrannas,” Solas whispered under his breath, as he walked a purposeful pace to the Inquisitor’s quarters.  He kept his head down, as if to hide himself, and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard someone exclaim “What’s that over there?” from across the long hall.  Cole, he presumed.

Solas closed the door to Salmae’s quarters softly, but then found himself frozen on the steps.  What made him believe he had anything he could say to heal her at all?  From Cole’s description, it was a pain he had carried himself for too long, but he had never healed it completely after all this time.  How could he offer anything to her?

It was then that he realized how silent it was.  Was she not ready to express what she felt?  Was she one not to cry?  Was she one to hide away instead?  Despite his heart reaching out to her whenever they were near, he had no answer to fall back on.  He could not anticipate how she would react once she saw him.   

He took a deep breath and despite his concerns, travelled up the stairs.  He didn’t try to be quiet, his wrapped feet tapping all the way up, but Salmae looked surprised when he finally ascended.  She sat on the bed holding her knees, looking like a lost child afraid to move.  She stared at him, her eyes vacant by choice.

“Ma vhenan,” Solas started, not knowing how to finish.  He waited by the steps. 

It took a moment for Salmae to wince and scrunch up in all her internalized pain.  She instinctively hid her face as it twisted and leaked, using her unmarked hand to cover her eyes.

Solas slowly came over, observing her, uncertain of what to do next.  Genuine contact with a friend outside the Fade, let alone someone dear, was until recently a distant memory he found painful to find.  He figured standing close would be acceptable, even welcome. Just because they had shared one brief moment of passion on the balcony did not mean she was ready for it to be real.  Or rather, he wasn’t certain he was himself ready.

As he came inches away from her, standing over her crumpled sorrow, Salmae reached out for him and grabbed him above the wrist.  Solas tripped then landed beside her on the bed and found himself sink right next to her.  She let go of his arm and leaned on him, her wet face staining his clothes.  He lifted his hand up in fear, and then let his hand rest on her back.  He looked down to her, forlorn, wishing her hurt would stop and knowing how it would be carried with her till the end of time. Letting her lean on him, rubbing her back, caressing the edge of her scalp… all things he knew couldn't truly ease the pain.

She wept for a few minutes before she finally had the strength to say, “My clan.”

“Shhh.”

“You know?”

“Cole.  He must’ve seen you.”

She clutched him tight.  “I… I can’t…”

“Ir abelas, Salmae.  I wish my sorrow could offer you more.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, still tearing up, taking in Solas’ light touches.  Then she whispered, “There were nights when I dreamed of when I would return to them.  When this is all over.  How they would welcome me back and how much I could share.  Making the Keeper proud.  Seeing my family…”  She grew quiet, tightened her chest, squeezed her eye shut.

Solas looked her over.  “Say as much or as little as you need.  I shall be here.  However long you need.”  

Salmae chose silence as she continued to weep for what felt to her like an eternity.  Solas barely noticed the passing of time.  He stayed concentrated on her, her breathing, her tears, the weight of her head on his chest, until she had tired of weeping so long that she finally fell asleep.  It took him a moment to realize, and he looked to see the sun had barely began to set.  Still, he felt it necessary to move her, albeit tenderly, so she lay properly on the bed.  He took a moment to decide to not put the sheets over her, and then turned toward the stairs. After the first couple of steps, he stopped, realizing at a time like this, dreams may not immediately be a comfort for her.

 

Salmae found herself back at the edge of the wood where the Lavellan’s kept their halla, but the blue sky had black cracks that extended to the horizon.  The fields were a dull green, and empty.  Beyond she could see the hill where Lavellan Clan called home these days, but it was shrouded in a swirl of black. 

Suddenly a golden halla rushed past her, with unbelievably tall antlers not carved in the typical designs, but resembling roots that arched around and pointed toward it’s back.  It ran straight for the hill, for home.  Salmae felt the urge to catch it, and gave in, sprinting in hot pursuit.  

The halla ran faster, and although Salmae did as well she never gained on it.  She felt every muscle tense as she tried her best to finally catch it.  Within minutes the halla beat her to the clearing where she saw her Keeper Istimaethoriel, her friends, her parents, even the lost fennec that had stayed with the clan since it was a pup.  The swirl of darkness started to fade away as everyone turned to face her.  Her Keeper gestured the halla over, and it obeyed.  Keeper then gave it a welcoming pet on the top of it’s head, before turning to face Salmae, who was mere yards away.

At that moment lightning struck the halla, and strings of electricity instantaneously stabbed through her whole clan. Their bodies flew in all directions in the air and landed in a wide blast scattered around, where they were all broken and lifeless.  Salmae covered her face and ducked.  When she finally could see the carnage before her, the grass had turned grey, the sky red with fire through the cracks.  In front of her lay her cousin, Arlvhenin, who had looked up to her before she had left for the conclave.  His small body looked broken in half, his face looking to her as if it pleaded to an end.  She fell to her knees, and fought every effort to scream, knowing it could change nothing.  

In the distance she heard a call to her, “Vhenan!”

She turned behind to see Solas, she presumed as she had before, when they returned to a long destroyed Haven in the Fade.  She stood up and took some comfort in realizing this must have been a dream.  She had never told anyone in the Inquisition exactly where the clan was until the Keeper reached out to them about the supposed raiders attacks.  Even though she trusted Solas, their romance was very new, and she didn’t think it prudent to tell anyone except Cullen where they stayed.  At least Cullen was sending forces to protect them, and as much as the Keeper did not avoid outside influence, Salmae knew better than to invite it herself.  

Regardless, here he was, and for that matter here she was far from Skyhold.  She looked back to the lifeless Arlvhenin.  It’s just a dream, she thought, but again it really isn’t.  

Solas jogged to her side.  “I’m glad I was able to find you so quickly.”  He looked down.  “I was afraid this was what you’d dwell on.”

She stood up to face him.  “How could I not?”  Without thinking she rushed to hug him.  This time it was easier for Solas to hug back, tightly and with purpose.  She was not surprised how he acted more comfortably.  

“You don’t wish to see this, do you?”

She shook her head.  “It’s awful.”

He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to face him.  “Would you like my help?”

She nodded.  Who better to aid her?

He gently put his palm on her cheek, and she leaned her head into his hand as he softly explained, “I will guide you on how to not linger on the painful present.  In the Fade, you may focus on the past, the character of those you treasure, the memories that light your heart.  In my experience, this has eased the grieving process.”  He paused and looked her over, and thought better to move his head closer at this moment.  “I hope this is more useful than gentle affection.”  A quick thought, then, “Not that I am opposed to affection.”

Salmae let out the faintest of smiles.  “Where should I start?  To learn about this.”

“You must remember that in the Fade, your mere will has more power.  Even though you are stuck in this moment, you can take what the Fade gives you and shape it to your needs.  As ugly as this scene appears, is there something you’d like to start to focus on?”

She turned around to look at little Arlvhenin on the ground.  She knelt down and did her best to stay composed and focused.  

“Who is the boy to you?”

“He’s my cousin, the youngest.  I never had a sibling, so I grew close with my cousins.  I think I am closest with him.”  She put a hand on the boy’s back.  “I was.”

Solas kneeled next to her, and instructed, “Focus on everything you appreciate about him.  The memories of the good, the actions that made him unique.  If it helps, stating it outloud should still work.”

She struggled to speak, as if to fight the image of Arlvhenin in front of her.  “He… he was only 9 but he was ready to go out on the hunt.  He kept a small bow on him for practice, never left his side.  He had impeccable sight.  Could spot you from miles away.”

As she spoke the blood that covered her cousin began to fade, and his body became broken. Encouraged, she continued. 

“I went on walks with him in the woods when no one else had the time.  Whenever we moved around the first thing he’d do is find a tree and climb it high enough to see for miles.  He would list to me anything new or interesting he saw.  He counted a lot.”

Arlvhenin began to stir, as if from a nap.  Startled, Salmae jumped back a bit.

“Focus,” Solas pushed.

“He… he loved this spot because the tree line wasn’t too high, it was easier for him to see Wycome.  Sometimes even see the people in the city.  He would try to count them sometimes, like they were dozens of ants at his feet.”

The boy pushed himself up to a sitting position and turned to face Salmae, with a large grin and beaming brown eyes.  “Salmae!  You’re back!”

Choking on her own excitement, she gasped.  “Oh!  Arlvhenin, you’re here.”

He tilted his curious head.  “Of course I’m here.  But now you’re here too!  Can we walk in the forest?”

She teared up.  “Of course, we can.”  She lent out a hand to help him up, still kneeling.  “What do you want to count today?”

“All the hills today.  I forgot how many hills there are.”

“You always count the hills, Arlvhenin!  How did you forget?”

“I don’t know, I think I count too much.”

Salmae laughed.  “Never, you can never count too much.”

“Do you think the Keeper will let you take me farther than before?  In the woods?”

“I… I don’t…”  Keeper.  Did she have to focus on the Keeper too?

Solas put a hand on her shoulder.  “One at a time.”

She turned to him, then back to the boy. “I don’t know.  Maybe we should just go as far--”

Arlvhenin looked skeptical.  “Is Keeper making you stay close with me?”

She could feel the grief cloud her concentration and she tried to fight it.  “Arlvhenin, we don’t have much time, let’s go--”

“But shouldn’t we tell--”

“Don’t worry.  I’ve already asked Keeper.”

“Why are you rushing?  What’s wrong?”  Then his head began to leak blood.

“No!”  She hugged him close.  “Stay with me!”

Solas gripped Salmae’s shoulders tight.  “That panic--”

“He’s too young!”

Immediately, Arlvhenin’s form melted away into blood, pooling in front of her.  She sank her head to the ground and fought back a wail.  She could feel the heat in her face. 

Solas repositioned to sit on the ground, kept a hand on her.  “The grief of losing your Keeper overwhelmed you by surprise.”

She nodded, and pressed herself up again.  She couldn’t turn to face him, as disappointed as she was. 

“You did well for a first try.”

“Is that supposed to be comfort?” She spat.  She then turned with a fallen face.  “I’m sorry.”  

“As am I for you.”  He took her hand into both of his.  “It may have been foolish of me to think I could guide you tonight.  The feelings are too intense now.  They may stay strong for some time.”

“I don’t want to be here now.  I can’t think right.  All I see is…”

Solas gave a sorrowful grimace and replied, “As you wish, vhenan.”

 

Wearily, Salmae opened her eyes and looked to the brick ceiling.  The sky was still violet, the sun almost done setting.  She hadn’t been asleep for long, she figured.  She then realized that her right hand was holding someone else’s, fingers interlaced.  Instinctively she jumped up and turned with a gasp to see that Solas had been sitting upright beside her.

He woke up at her shock,  and immediately straightened up.  “I’m… sorry.  I should…”

He turned to leave the bed, planting his feet on the floor.  She hugged him from behind, her chin over his shoulder.  He stopped, and put a hand on her head and closed his eyes.  He took a deep breath.  

“I shouldn’t disturb you.”

“Who said you disturbed me, Solas?”

“I should say that I shouldn’t startle you again.  Especially as you mourn.”  His words were heavy and sunk to the bottom of her chest.  

“It’s alright.  I’d rather not be alone.  I don’t know if I could be tonight.”  She felt the tears well up. 

“You’d rather I was here?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Honestly?  I am.  I feel I brought you no comfort, and have only made things worse.”

She hugged him tighter.  “You tried to make things better.  You always do.”

He sunk into her a little bit.  “A failing of mine.”

They stayed quiet, eyes closed, for a brief moment, before Salmae moved to be seated next to him.  She held his hand, this time squeezing tight, and said, “Thank you.”

He shook his head.  “What for?  I caused you pain.”

“You give me hope.  Maybe not again tonight, but soon, could you teach me how to see them?”  She looked down to the ground.  “Maybe I should say goodbye to them.  Not them, I guess, but, well the part of them I love.”  She swallowed a lump in her throat.  “Loved.”

Solas gingerly took her face in his hand again, and she again leaned into his palm as she looked to him.  It felt so much warmer here than in the Fade.  

His voice carried sadness as he spoke.  “If you think it will help, I can continue to teach you.”

The offer lingered in the air, and then she smiled.  “Part of me always wanted to learn how you explored the Fade.”

“I’m sorry that this was the introduction.”

“No, the kiss at Haven.  I will keep that as the introduction in my head.”

“It wasn’t much of a lesson.”

“Well, I did will a kiss from you, didn’t I?”

Solas finally smiled back.  She did, didn’t she?

______________********______________

_ It means I remember the kiss. _

_ Good. _

 

The view off that balcony was bittersweet.  Salmae found herself getting lost in the sight, and who had enjoyed it with her before.

The new peacekeeping focus of the Inquisition lent itself to long times of introspection at her desk.  If she didn’t need to travel, most advisement came from a letter she wrote, carefully with the one hand these days.  Or she was reading notes updating her on where they may have seen Fen’Harel’s next move.  

It was easier to call him that in her head when she tried to counter him.  But when she looked out on the balcony, it was Solas.  Solas who had surprised her heart.  Who had tended to her wounded body and soul.  Fen’Harel had revealed himself at the Exalted Council, but it was Solas who had taken her hand with one touch and a kiss.  For her, it was Solas she missed having beside her on the balcony.

She fiddled with her quill.  I still think that’s the secret, she thought.  

The crystal charm around her neck vibrated.  She held it quickly in her hand.  “Dorian?”

“Of course it’s me!”  His voice rang out, joyous as ever.  “Who else speaks to you through this thing?”

She laughed.  “I’ll never get used to it.”

“A pity.  I do call on you often, you’d think you’d be used to the thing by now.  It’s been a year, hasn’t it?”

“Since you left?  Maybe longer.  Everything seems to stretch eons now that I am not out on a mission anymore.”

Another laugh.  “I do miss those.  Although Tevinter politics are still more exciting than the busy work they have you doing out there.”

She sighed.

“Is now a good time?”

“As ever.”  She looked down to the notes from Divine Victoria--unofficial notes this time--and knew they could wait.  It was probably another dead end.

“You sound rather somber.”

“Really?  I thought I always do these days.”

“Now now, Inquisitor.  Keep your chin up.  Should I be asking you if you need any help these days?”

She took in a deep breath.  “If you can help me think through an idea of mine.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll think it foolish.”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s regarding someone who you call a fool.”

A groan.  “The fool who doomed us all?”

She nodded her head.  “Yes.”

Dorian sighed mournfully.  “We haven’t spoken about him for months, I thought you were going to give this a rest?”

“Don’t worry.  It’s technically a strategy.”

“What’s the strategy?  You’re going to appear to him in the finest Orleasian knickers and distract him with your wiles?”  

Salmae giggled.  “No, that won’t work.”

“Wouldn’t work for me either.”

The giggled turned into a loud laugh.  “Dorian, will you listen?”

“Oh alright.  I just don’t like how sad you get when you talk about him.  It’s most upsetting.  I have no time to be upset today.”

“Just tell me what you think.”  She stood up and walked to the balcony doors.  “I don’t think we capture him, or lock him up, or… kill him.  He’s too powerful for any of that to truly succeed, and now too influential.”

“Right, so is the strategy is... to give up?”

“The strategy is to make sure he knows everything he loses by fulfilling his plan.  If his plan is to destroy our world to re-establish the time of the Evanarius, he’s doing it because he feels he must right a wrong.  We have to make sure he knows this correction is simply another wrong.”

It was silent long enough that Salmae looked down to make sure the connections was still in the crystal.  

Then he spoke.  “So a dinner date then?”

“Dorian.  Please.”

“I fail to see how this is a plan you can act on effectively.”

“He’s a man of action.  We must take actions that keep him invested in this world.  Some of it maybe even offering him something simple to do, keeping him involved in the here and now.”

“That’s… very abstract.  And almost impossible to act on.”

“I’m not certain how it will all shape out, but the idea struck me a while ago.  I thought it through.”

“Why don’t you just find him and talk to him about this?  Plea your case.  He’s more likely to listen to you than anyone else.”

“No… I think he must be shown.  To scold him… his name is Pride.”

“Wait, it is?  Honestly?”

“Yes.  In Elven.”

“Bless the Maker that explains so much.”

Salmae shook her head.  “You didn’t know that?  I thought I had told everyone.”

“And once again I discover I’m out of the loop.”  Dorian’s sarcasm practically oozed out of the crystal. “I feel so betrayed and hurt.”

“You seem skeptical.”

“Of what, this plan?  Of course I am.  I’m certain you spoke to him when you last saw him at the Exalted Council.  You’re an intelligent woman.  I would think if he could have come to reason, it would’ve been then.”

Salmae stayed quiet.  She still hadn’t told anyone that at first, hearing him wanting to restore the Elvhen, and to be by his side again… she wanted to join him.  The pang of guilt sealed her mouth shut.  That was her secret to keep, and she hoped Fen’Harel would never use it against her.  Logic washed over her a mere day after that exchange, and the weight of that offer hung around her neck.  Part of her felt it would become her noose, if he got desperate. 

Dorian continued.  “It also requires a lot of influence and moving parts.  I don’t know how you’re going to make it work.”

“I can speak with Josephine about that strategy.  If anyone can aid with that, it would be her.”

“And all of Thedas owes the Inquisition a favor or two, whether or not they admit it.”

“They’ve probably already forgotten.  We’ve seen how the Grey Wardens are rewarded.”

“Right… Salmae, what makes you think this will work?”

She looked back to her bed.  The sun on the balcony was becoming too bright.  “I don’t know if you remember when Cullen tried to help clan Lavellan.”

“No I--oh, yes, unfortunately I do.”

She tried to keep the tone of her voice even.  “After something like that happens, it’s easy to put the blame on yourself.  To think that there were other options, other ways to save them.  Right after I got the news, there were weeks when I thought about asking you about the time magic, going back just to warn them.”

Dorian was very quiet.  “Salmae, that’s a blood magic infused--”

“I remember.  I remember going back and seeing the destruction one selfish wish causes.  What power can do and promise you, making you bound to it’s growth and will until you realize you’ve never truly had the power at all.  And despite having witnessed that ugly future, I still fought for weeks approaching you about recreating that talisman.”

“This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“I only told one other person.”

“Solas.”

“He told me to think it over, that he thought there were better ways to deal with this.  I did, and I studied the books in the library and I couldn’t find anything that wasn’t simply destructive to something or someone on a grand scale.  After a time, I stopped looking.”  She let her tears come down, but still kept her voice steady.  “And still, I feel a guilt about what happened to clan Lavellan.  To my people.”

For once, Dorian was silent.

After a moment she spoke up again.  “Now imagine that weight multiplied by eons.  Falling asleep thinking you have save the entirety of your people, only to wake up and see them scattered and enslaved.  He criticized the Dalish to me and I listened, and now I see it was his own guilt in being a part of our lost culture.  He saw us with our vallaslin, the marks he took off  the slaves he freed, and was disgusted that they had become a badge of honor.  All was lost.  We were no longer proud people who ruled this world.  We were bound here, no longer carrying the pride of our history, of our great age, and under the thumb of races that had only appeared after the Veil was put up for our own protection.  To him, the Veil must be imprisoning us.  I think about all that he must be carrying on him, and I think back to how I almost created a talisman that required a dangerous amount of blood magic just to save one clan of my people.”

A pause, and then Dorian added.  “Then you think about what stopped you.”

“I do.  It was all of you.”

It took a moment for his reply.  “Ah, I see.  You were invested in us, and one of the sole people who could have save us from Corypheus.  To indulge in your quest to save your clan would’ve been to abandon us.”

“Or worse, ruin the Inquisitions’s reputation, when we needed it the most.”  She took a long deep breath in.  “Does it make sense now?”

“What makes sense?”

“The strategy.”

“Oh.  Well, I will say you’ve made me less skeptical.”

“Good.”

 

Salmae stood at the top of the hill as Istimaethoriel had before, surveying the area.  She didn’t have to, but had felt necessary.  Who else was watching over home?

Actually, it wasn’t anyone’s home anymore, was it?

A few yards away where the tree line started, Cullen was finishing up a modest tent.  He volunteered to body guard.  Salmae had insisted that as a mage the one hand wasn’t something she was worried about, but he insisted.  She knew Skyhold had grown too quiet.  But it had been a while since he had to bear down and make it in the woods.  To be honest, she hadn’t either.  Both seemed to fall back into it well.   

She used her staff to guide herself down the hill again.  She filled her lungs with the open air, the familiar grass smell intoxicating her.  It was brisk, but familiar, so comfortable.  

She made her way to Cullen, who was now making a fire pile with the supplies he had gathered earlier.  The sun was almost done setting.  

Cullen didn’t look up.  “I waited too long.  It’s going to be a long time to get this going thanks to our delay.”

“Back away,” Salmae instructed.  Cullen stood up and did so.  With a flick of her wrist she lit the small bundle of logs and twigs on fire.  

Cullen smiled.  “You’re getting better with your left hand there.”

“It’s a safe place to practice, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not for me if you weren’t careful.”  He went to where the bags were placed.  “If you don’t mind sharing a tent, I was going to set up my bedroll and possibly turn in a little early.”

“I won’t be sleeping in the tent tonight.”

“Are you certain?”

She nodded.  “It’ll help if I’m out in the open.”

“If you insist.  And we won’t be stopping by Wycome then?”

She frowned.  “I’m afraid of what I’ll hear.”

“You may hear something useful.  Sera’s blasted agents haven’t sent word for months.  We may be better getting the information on our own.”

“We could--” No, she thought, you can’t use Lelianna anymore.  “I mean, I’ll decide on that in the morning.  I’ll see what I can find out tonight.”

Cullen raised his eyebrow.  “I’ll never get used to mage practices, Circle or otherwise.  Just, please stay close to the fire.”

“I’ll try.  Get some rest, Commander.”

She turned away and decided to walk in the middle of the open field.  Being central seemed right.  She remember Solas describing sitting up against a tree, to guard his back.  Salmae figured her wards would work best with her lying down.  This is where she would sleep tonight.  She kept an eye out.  There were no signs of wolves nearby, or halla for that matter.  It seemed unusually empty for nature.  As she sat down, and laid her staff next to her, she was reassured when she heard an owl call out to the young night.  

She took a moment and calmed herself.  Meditation, she found, helped with her connection.  She focused on the wind, it’s direction as it brushed past her face, it’s stillness during those brief moments.   She kept her breath at even paces, slowing it down.  After an hour of this, she slowly laid back onto the ground, stretched out her legs, and let slumber slip into her mind.

 

Even after all these years, the old Lavellan clan lands near Wycome still have red skies and grey grass in the Fade.  At least that’s how she always saw it now.  But this time, she was here.  She concentrated on controlling herself.  She looked to her body, and she willed it to be her formal attire, complete with the pin to close up her sleeve.  If she was going to speak to spirits, she decided to look more diplomatic. 

However, everything here seemed rather empty.  She surely thought that in the Fade, there would’ve been a witness to what had transpired.  Maybe some spirit out there would have seen those gruesome events.  She had already decided a demon would not be considered.  The cost was always too high.  But not even a hostile force was present.  How did this part of the Fade become so empty?

She heard a call from what was the treeline.  “Vhenan.”  She shuddered.  No, she thought, that shouldn’t be possible.

Yet when she turned around, there he stood, in his full gilded armor and furs.  Fen’Harel.  

She immediately could feel the resentment fill her throat.  “For the last year I chase after you in dreams, I speak out to you with no response.  And now you find me here?  And now you wish to speak?”

He slowly approached.  “I should have expected your anger.  Maybe I shouldn’t have found you here.  To cause such emotion makes you a target.”

“But I find no spirits here, or demons.”

“By my design, a temporary fix.”  He stopped a yard away from her.  

“Why come now?”

“My agents saw you and Cullen approach toward Wycome, and I assumed you may use the talents I taught you to see what happened to clan Lavellan.  It seemed fair to speak to you when you were here willingly, with intent, and not just in a dream.”

“So you haunting me isn’t unfair.”

He looked down and frowned.  “It is, but I find it hard not to look for you.  I would joke and say it’s by magic, but it’s not.  It’s a deep longing I have not been able to shake.  If you wish, I can stop.”

She took a moment to think it over, and then, crestfallen, answered, “No.”

They let a silence shroud them.  They looked each other over.  Salmae figured he looked healthy, but this is the Fade, and he was a master here.  He could project whatever he desired.  For all she knew, he was beaten up and wounded on the other side of this dream.

“I hope you’re doing fine,” she croaked.  It didn’t feel right to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself.  She had to level her head, not get too distracted, not lose focus.

“You hope I’m healthy but not succeeding.”

“That’s a way to say it.”

“I have time on my side.  I’ve only made small headway.  I hope… you don’t force my hand.”

“I hope so too.  That is not my plan Solas.”

He perked up.  She figured he hadn’t heard that name in some time.  “After the year apart, you still… don’t wish me ill?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She began to raise her voice.  “Was that your hope?”

“Not entirely.”

“Why should I wish you ill?”

“Because if you hated me, then only one of us is truly suffering as this continues.”

Her eyes welled up.  “I find it impossible to hate you, so you’ll find no comfort in that.  I will always try to save you.”

“Even if your world burns?”

“Possibly.”

He took a step forward, her a step back.  She hadn’t figured out if this was The Dread Wolf, or the apostate who had tended to her hand as she lied unconscious for days.  Both parts of him were intertwined, she never denied that.  But she always hoped for the latter to come through.

As he stepped back in response, his face showed that his heart winced.  “Please, vhenan.  I don’t know if I can come back for you again.  I long for one more gaze, one more kiss.  Part of me believes that will suffice.  Part of me knows it won’t.”

“You are a trickster god.”

He shook his head.  “This pain… I thought when Mythal died I would never suffer the way I mourned then.  How wrong was I?”

Despite the overflow of emotions clouding her head, Salmae took a survey of what was around her.  Still no spirits.  Or demons.  If he were to kill her, there would be nothing to possess her and trick the Inquisition.

And she had told Josephine the plan before she left. 

She cautiously stepped toward him.  She could tell he kept himself from rushing after her and grab her, just like the first kiss on the balcony.  The first kiss in the the real world.  But she still kept herself alert.  She stopped mere inches away.

“I can promise you a gaze.  To kiss you… I’d beg to run off with you again.  I can’t afford to do that.”

He studied her face.  “Ma nuvenin.”

As she looked to him, she wasn’t sure if she could stop.  Her heart swelled and cracked all at once, and she still tried to look strong.

After a moment, he spoke.  “I know you wish to find out if there are any more survivors of the attack.”

“Sera only found proof of one.”

“I don’t know all their names, but I know there were several.  Most did perish, but I spoke to the spirits here some time ago, and they remember a few escaped.”

Salmae gasped.  “Any names?  Anything?”

“I’ve so far only been able to confirm one.”

“Who?”

He looked to the side.  “Arlvhenin.”

“Creators!  My cousin lives!”  She hugged him, not surprised he was too shocked to hug back.  She remember why she found it so comforting to be in his arms after she found out the fate of clan Lavellan.  Why was the Fen’Harel she feared as a child now the man she wished was near her every day?  If the humans are right, and there is a Maker, she pondered, he is a cruel god to do this to me.

“He lives, and I’m looking after him.”

It took her a second to understand.  She pulled away and looked at him with great fear. “He’s… one of your agents?”

“It’s the best way to make sure he’s safe.”

“No!” She screamed.  “He doesn’t know!”

He took her by the shoulders to steady her.  “I wanted to help your people.”

“You always want to help but now my cousin is going to destroy everything he knows without having the faintest idea!  I can’t let that happen!”  She grabbed him by the furs and almost knocked their heads together as she stared him down.  “Where are you keeping him?”

“I can’t tell you, vhenan.  I promise you he’s safe.”

“Until you destroy us all because of your guilt.”

He looked at her desperately.  “I’m trying another way.”

“Is there a way where no one is lost?  Where nothing perishes?”

He fell to his knees.  “No. I’ve tried to find one, and I can’t.  I still pursue the idea, but I cannot find a hint as to how it could work.  At a minimum, the other races homelands will be torn asunder while the Elvhen live as they did.  I’m trying to save the most of our people.”

She crumpled to the ground and pounded the dirt with her fist.  “Why?  Why is it not enough?  Why is my world not enough for you?”  She cried the loudest she had since she was a child.  She let her face become wet with tears.  After a minute she found herself using her lone hand to weakly pummel his legs in front of him, as if it did any good as she screamed in horror.  He just stayed there, kneeling in front of her, not responding except for a sadness stricken across his face.  She continued like this for some time until the overwhelming need for contact took her over and she fell on him again, her head on his shoulder, her one arm squeezing him, as she continued to cry.  She felt him take her in, his arms wrap around her torso, his head lay on top of hers… and it felt so comforting despite her head screaming out that this was only making everything worse.  Why still love this man?  Why still go back to him?  Now he steals your family and you look to him for comfort?

But she couldn’t stop herself.  And in the Fade, she could cry as long as she wanted.  So she did.  They rocked, him shushing, her screaming and insulting him in every curse she knew as she clawed at him and let every ounce of water her face would allow her in the Fade.  

When her cries grew softer, but still audible, he explained.  “If I don’t make Arlvehnin an agent, he may not live until the end.  When I can, I will make sure you can see him again.  You may even take him back.  But I must help our people.  Ir abelas emma lath.  Mala suledin nadas.”

She shook her head.  “Banal nadas.  You’ve said it before, Solas.  Part of you must believe it.”

“This is something I must do.”

She took his head in her hand and looked at him one more time.  “No, I will show you otherwise.  It may not be the world you wanted, but we will show you why this world must live.  Thedas is not deserving of death.”

He still look so hurt.  She felt that it served him right.  To use her cousin against her, under the pretense of protection… it was something he would find value in despite knowing she would protest.  He was still a child, why drag Arlvhenin in this?  Why not guide him back to her in Skyhold?

She realized she should not stay here longer.  “If I don’t let myself wake I will find myself clinging to your side in the Fade forever.  But I know what it is to lose all you knew, and think you should make it right.”

“You never had the ability to trap a people in a world they were not prepared for.”

“I did have the chance to trap a worthy group in a reputation the would never have earned on their own.  But those people…”  

Dorian had suggested dinner date, and even though this context was far off, it was still the wrong way.

“I’ll show you Solas.  And if I am never able to show you, may the Dread Wolf take me.”

He leaned his forehead to hers.  “I never wished this, vhenan.  Why must you fight me?”

“Because you are still worthy, no matter what you tell yourself.”  She gave in to one kiss, squeezing his head tight.  They both partook as if it were fresh rain in a desert hike.  As he reached to grab her waist, she pulled back.  “And the children of this world are worthy of growing up without seeing the world burn.”

 

She sat up straight and couldn’t stop herself from screaming.  A flock of birds flew away from the tree line, but everything else stayed still for the minute she shrieked at the top of her lungs.  She was surprised she held the fit for so long once she found herself catching her breath, no longer letting out her pain in one shrill cry.  She got to her knees and looked around.  Foolish, she thought, of course he’s not in view.  She stood up regardless and looked around in a circle, barely noticing Cullen come out of the tent, with his breastplate on and a sword at his side, on top of his casual attire.  

“Inquisitor!”  He called out.  “Inquisitor!  What did you find?”

She immediately felt guilty for waking him up.  “Commander… I’m sorry.”  Her voice was hoarse.  “I… I found something more than I thought I would.”

Cullen finally stopped a couple feet away from her, sword still up and ready.  “Demon?”

“No.  Solas.”

“Solas… how did he know you’d be here?”

“His agents.”

“Well, we didn't have any strategy to be discreet did we?”

She shook her head.  “And now I’m sure half his agents heard where I am.”

Cullen looked a little too tired to laugh.  “Where did he head?”

“No, he was here in the Fade, not physically here.”

He put his blade down and scratched his head.  “I’m not much use then, am I?”

Salmae wearily shrugged.  “Go back to the tent Cullen.  I’m not going back to sleep soon.”

“Did he say anything important?”

“He has my cousin.”

“As a hostage?”

“No, he is taking care of him.”

“Do you trust him with your cousin?”

She sighed.  “More so than the world right now.”  She rubbed her face in frustration.  “I shouldn’t have come back here.  Keeper’s name of the place has lost all it’s meaning.”

“She named it?”

“We moved around many times, so each place we returned to consistently had a name.  For some time Keeper felt this was the most secure, a place to go if we needed to know we would be unaccosted.  She called it El Etharla Lavallen.  Our safe haven.”

Cullen groggily scoffed.  “An unfortunate pity to have this place be named that.”  He walked back to the tent, but Salmae stood in place.  She looked down to the grass, happy to see that even in the faint moonlight it stayed a yellow-green shade.  

“Unfortunate.”  

For her people, for all her people, this plan would have to work. 


End file.
